


A Little Death

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Driving, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, if only for a little while, post murder coitus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 07:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Oswald, sensing Jim's conflicting emotions and tension after killing Galavan, offers to help him 'let off some steam'.





	A Little Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlettica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlettica/gifts).



‘I’m going to need a new umbrella’, Oswald said.

Jim’s eyes narrowed at Oswald’s cheery tone. He could still smell the salty tang of the bay and see Galavan’s blood, black in the moonlight, spread across the damp sand. That same damp sand, clinging to the sole of his shoe, made a grinding noise as he placed pressure on the car’s accelerator. He was keen to take Oswald wherever he was going and get back to Lee. 

‘Where can I take you?’ he asked, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, ‘Back to Ed’s apartment?’

‘Why?’ 

‘Well, I thought you and Ed were…‘

Oswald picked up on Jim’s meaning even as he searched for the right word.

‘Oh! No!’ Oswald interjected, waving his hands frantically, ‘No. We’re-we’re just friends’. 

Jim nodded, concerned about Ed’s choice in friends but relieved there wasn’t something deeper going on between the two. Jim wondered if he should (gently) question Ed about how he met Oswald in the first place and discourage him from continuing to associate with Oswald. For all his intelligence, Ed was poor at reading people and could be easily manipulated by someone like The Penguin.

‘At least, I think we are’, Oswald continued after a moment’s pause, ‘I _hope_ we are’.

Another pause. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Oswald’s face was thoughtful. They stopped for a red light. Jim readjusted his grip on the wheel impatiently and sighed.

‘I could use more friends’.

Jim was taken aback by the sad undercurrent in Oswald’s voice but not half as taken aback compared to what Oswald said next.

‘I think you could use more friends too’.

‘I have friends’, Jim said, brow furrowing, ‘Thanks’.

He was far too tired for Oswald’s usual attempts to ingratiate himself by pulling his ‘we’re not so different’ spiel.

‘What happened tonight isn’t going to be a problem for Ed is it?’

Jim wondered if Oswald’s concern was an act but decided against it. It was more likely to be some kind of veiled threat. Ed was just the sort of contact Oswald would value at the GCPD. So, it wasn’t friendship. Just another one of Oswald’s machinations to undermine the GCPD’s authority. That settled it. Jim would speak to Ed as soon as possible. Make sure he understood who he was really dealing with and that The Penguin, while incapable of knowing what true friendship was, was fully aware of how to exploit its importance to others.

‘I’ll make sure it won’t’, Jim replied, the words acting as a promise to himself, ‘Ed made a mistake that’s all’.

‘A mistake in saving my life?’ Oswald asked incredulously.

‘A mistake in getting mixed up in something he’s not equipped to handle’, Jim corrected pointedly.

Jim was surprised to hear Oswald give nothing but an odd, amused chuckle in response and scratched his head distractedly.  
The light finally changed and the car moved off again, Jim following Oswald’s pointing finger to indicate the route. It began to rain and Jim engaged the windscreen wipers.   
As they drove in silence once more, the wipers almost seemed to mimic the movement of a pendulum or a ticking clock. Jim squirmed in his seat. He had hoped that silence would have been soothing. Instead, it felt like an oppressive weight, mirroring the thunder rumbling high above them.  
Feeling warm sweat trickle down the side of his face, he wiped at it irritably.  
Glancing down, he was startled to find it was not sweat but blood. He realised it must have happened during the fight at Galavan’s and his scratching had reopened the clotted wound.  
Growling at yet another delay in their journey, Jim pulled over and touched the side of his head. He felt stickiness beneath his fingers from a shallow cut then a sudden, soft, comforting pressure.  
Jim realised it was Oswald, holding a clean handkerchief to his head. Jim accepted the handkerchief and applied pressure to the cut.

‘For the record, I consider _you_ a friend Jim’, Oswald said, moving back into his seat.

‘We’re co-conspirators’, Jim said, wincing as the wound stung, ‘That’s all’.

‘I see’, Oswald sniffed, ‘I suppose our relationship has always been based on reciprocity. Hard to build a friendship on selfishness’.

Late at night, the favours Jim had procured from Oswald in the past still nagged at him and Oswald’s pointed, accusing tone made his stomach roil with unexpected shame.

‘You need to have common ground before you can have a friendship’, Jim said dismissively.

‘Like you and Bullock?’ Oswald countered, ‘I seem to remember you both disagreeing about whether to shoot me or not’.

‘Maybe I should’ve listened to him’, Jim said, examining the handkerchief. The blots of blood were getting smaller. 

‘You should be glad you didn’t, considering I provided you with the private army we used tonight’, Oswald snapped, ‘Just one more little favour right?’

‘What do you want from me Oswald?!’ Jim retorted, scrunching up the handkerchief and thrusting it at Oswald.

‘Keep it’, Oswald said, pale eyes cold, ‘And a ‘thank you’ would be a good place to start’.

‘Thank you’, Jim said pedantically, shoving the handkerchief into the glove box.

‘You’re welcome’, Oswald replied angrily, eyes narrowing at Jim’s concealment of the token, ‘And I don’t want anything from you’.

‘Until you do and you’ll threaten to mention what we just did to make sure you get it’, Jim said heatedly.

He glared at Oswald, daring him to deny it but Oswald matched the eye contact unblinkingly.

‘It’s not my fault you have so much trouble taking responsibility for your actions’, Oswald said aloofly.

Jim turned the keys angrily. The engine surged into life and the car moved off.

‘Me taking responsibility would be driving straight to the GCPD right now and turning us both in for murder’, Jim said, half to himself.

‘But you won’t do that’.

‘Why not?!’ Jim asked, this time half as a genuine question.

‘Because you know killing Galavan was the right thing to do’ Oswald said indifferently.

Jim said nothing. He could hear the smile in Oswald’s voice when he spoke again after acknowledging Jim had no intention of filling the quiet pause he had permitted for an answer. And no intention of turning either of them in.

‘And you say we don’t have common ground. We both want Gotham to be a better place. I just know what it takes to make it that way’.

‘What does it take?’ Jim asked, intrigued by Oswald’s philosophical tone despite himself.

‘Blood’, Oswald said simply.

‘Even if it’s yours?’

‘I think we’re both happier it was Galavan’s’, Oswald shrugged, ‘Even if you won’t admit it. Stop here’.

Jim pulled over in front of a seedy looking motel. The neighbourhood was on the outskirts of The Narrows which did not surprise Jim. He was grateful he wasn’t on the clock: he was pretty sure the clear packets two tough looking men were exchanging on the corner weren’t full of sugar.

‘I suppose Lee will be waiting for you’, Oswald said, ‘Congratulations by the way’.

Jim took Oswald’s offered hand and shook it. He let go as soon as he was sure Oswald couldn’t use him letting go as another excuse to be offended.

‘Thank you’, Jim said, uncertain why Oswald was still in the car now that his seemingly genuine sentiment had been delivered and accepted.

‘Are you going to tell her what we did tonight?’

Jim’s blood ran cold.

‘Is that a threat?’ he asked quietly.

‘It’s just a question’.

‘I don’t believe you’, Jim said, locking eyes with Oswald, ‘What do you want?’

Oswald chuckled knowingly, eyes glittering.

‘Both of us want _something_ ’, he whispered, ‘I can see it in your eyes. It’s why we’re here’.

Jim’s eyes darted to the neon sign of the motel and his brain did the rest of the necessary arithmetic. Dark neighbourhood the GCPD rarely entered unless in force, cheap rooms, hourly rental rate, a sign in the window advertising ‘discretion’…

‘What are you talking about?’ Jim asked, even though he already knew.

‘Don’t play coy’, Oswald tilted his head, bemused at Jim playing dumb, ‘I understand the appeal of playing happy families, really I do, but sooner or later that darkness in you is going to start to leak out. Unless you release some of it. Now’.

Jim knew he should drive away. Just order Oswald out of the car, drive away and forget how Oswald’s eyes were staring right through him, or how he was licking his pink lips expectantly or how hypnotic it had been to watch Oswald unleash his anger on Galavan, how intoxicating his strength seemed, his sure belief in who he was…  
Forget how Oswald was tracing a lean finger along his tie, the sound of his nail on the material like a inviting whisper.

‘I love Lee’, Jim said thickly, swallowing hard.

The irritation that had been building inside him during the car journey was feeling more and more like a fever. His brow felt moist and his thoughts were confused, the emotions and adrenaline of the night making it hard to think straight. It had been so long since he had felt sure of anything.

‘I know’, Oswald said soothingly, ‘But we both know you can’t go back to her like this. So tense’.

As Oswald’s hand trailed down his chest, Jim grabbed it. Oswald gave a soft gasp at the strength of Jim’s grip that made Jim squirm in his seat.

‘No’, Jim said, hating the catch in his voice.

‘It felt good killing Galavan didn’t it?’ Oswald continued, his breath warm against Jims hand as he drew closer, ‘Liberating? Exciting? Almost…arousing?’

‘No’, Jim lied, shaking his head, ‘It didn’t’.

‘Don’t lie to me’, Oswald said, leaning forward, ‘It’s insulting’.

‘What’re you-?!’

Jim’s question faded into a moan as Oswald placed a hand between his legs and rubbed hard. Jim felt his own body betray him instantly as his erection (which had been gradually intensifying throughout the journey) tented his underwear as if chasing Oswald’s touch.  
Jim let his head loll back, too exhausted to resist as Oswald’s seductive words drowned out his doubts.

‘The thrill of the kill. The woe of the conquered. The fulfillment of vengeance. How could Lee ever understand?’

Jim could feel his defences failing because he knew Oswald was right. Every time he fought the darkness, the darkness got stronger. Killing Galavan had woke it up and it was hungry. He needed to put the monster back to sleep. Become himself again before going back to Lee.   
And what was one more dirty little secret between he and Oswald? 

‘You need someone who can handle you. And everything that comes with you’.

‘I hate you’, Jim lied, well aware that Oswald wasn’t the one he hated.

‘Maybe’, Oswald said, a victorious gleam in his eyes, ‘But you _need_ me’.

 

**

 

‘Say it!’ Jim growled huskily.

‘I need you Jim’, Oswald breathed.

He cried out as Jim thrusted in to him again, pulling him closer in his arms, one arm looped beneath Oswald’s bad leg to help Oswald draw him close. Oswald threw his head back and moaned in ecstasy as Jim pounded his entrance again and again. Jim had hastily procured a condom from the ground floor bathrooms and Oswald had used some lube available for ‘guest use’ but Jim was so much larger, more intense than any toy Oswald had ever used that Oswald was certain there would be consequences for his impatience the next morning.  
But right now, all that mattered was the hunger in Jim’s eyes and the way his hot tongue was ravaging Oswald’s mouth.

As Jim drew back, gasping for air, Oswald gripped Jim’s back hard and rocked his hips down, impaling himself on Jim’s cock. He licked his bruised lips as Jim, hair matted and eyes half hooded, leant on his shoulder, lathing it with hot kisses.  
Oswald raked his nails along Jim’s sweat bathed skin with relish.  
Bruises were easy to explain. They were the honest results of physical confrontation but scratches on the back from manicured nails? Well, that had an altogether more underhanded and erotic connotation. Oswald had already decided he would never tell anybody what he and Jim were indulging in but he had no objection to Lee figuring it out for herself. He wondered spitefully if Jim would say it was Oswald, a criminal he professed to hate, who had caused them or settle for the lesser humiliation of saying he had had some meaningless fling with some floozy. As Oswald heard Jim hiss in relish at the rough sensation of his nails, Oswald swore he would make sure Jim would remember who had marked him.

As if in vengeance for Oswald’s ministrations to his back, Jim pulled out. The sudden cold sensation made Oswald give a longing cry which was cut short by Jim flipping him over onto his knees. Jim took hold of Oswald’s bad leg to prevent him putting pressure on it and re-entered without ceremony. Oswald laughed deliriously as the warm, aching friction returned, shocking his pleasure centre. He could feel his cock grind against the bedspread and rolled his hips, masochistically teasing it even as Jim rocked him to his core.  
Jim fucked Oswald with wild abandon. It felt so fucking good to let loose for once! To not think and just fuck like an animal! He thought again about seeing Galavan on his knees and the righteous kick of the gun in his hand as he had put the man down where he could never hurt anyone again. Oswald seemed to be appreciating his technique: his moans were getting louder, almost feminine in their pitch a he frantically whispered the word ‘more’ again and again, his greedy hole sucking Jim in as if to milk him dry.  
A little treacherous voice in Jim’s head that sounded like Oswald’s observed it never felt this good with Lee. Never so raw and wild, the erotic sensation of holding Oswald down and matching his fierce kisses and bites allowing Jim to unleash his pent up frustration and indulge his innate desire to dominate others. Oswald liked it rough and Jim, for once, agreed.

As Jim ran a hand down Oswald’s back, marvelling at the broad shoulders and lean muscle usually concealed beneath Oswald’s garish suits, he was surprised to feel raised tissue beneath his fingers. Slowing slightly, he opened his eyes and examined Oswald’s back properly, the lust induced haze fading slightly as he tried to concentrate.  
Oswald’s pale back was bedecked with scars. Cigarette burns, old cuts and even a dark purple, blossom like mark where the bullet that had pierced his shoulder had passed through. This was the only wound that had healed well, no doubt thanks to Ed’s expertise. The others were jagged and ugly, obviously quick amateur stitch ups that Oswald had most likely performed himself. Despite the heat pervading his body, Jim felt a chill up his back.   
He had as many scars as Oswald if not more but they were hard to see. Because he had had people to help patch him up. People that cared if he lived or died.  
The realization instantly caused Jim to slow his pace further.

Despite himself, he felt a pang of sympathy. Lee had helped him with most of his wounds since coming to Gotham. Always ready and willing to effortlessly and expertly patch up any new wounds Jim incurred: mental or physical.   
Oswald had no-one.   
Except Jim, who he had practically blackmailed into fucking him. Was this the only way Oswald could get any comfort? Could he only let his guard down when he had a failsafe in place? When was the last time he had been able to enjoy the simple pleasure of bodily contact with another person? Had he ever-

A sudden jolt interrupted Jim’s train of thought.  
Oswald glared up at Jim over his shoulder, annoyed at Jim’s slowed pace. He was trying to work off aggression for Pete’s sake! He rammed his hips back again, gritting his teeth as his knee protested in response. His cock was leaking, the mounting pressure almost unbearable thanks to Jim’s teasing. Did he forget who was in charge here?!

‘Hurry. Up’, Oswald hissed, ‘You want to get back to her don’t you?’

The word ‘her’ reminded Jim of what he was doing. He had already wasted too much time.

‘Yes’, Jim said determinedly, adjusting his grip on Oswald’s hips before savagely bucking his hips forward once more.

Oswald gasped and shivered as Jim finally began to fuck him properly again. He didn’t care what Jim thought of him! He didn’t care that Jim was only finally hitting that wonderful spot again and again because he wanted to get back to that woman! He only cared that Jim was fucking him! He was here and giving Oswald what he wanted! That for however short a time he wanted Oswald! And Oswald wanted him! He had always wanted him and now he had him and-and-!  
Oswald’s back arched as he came, his seed spilling onto the bed and his passage clenched, dragging Jim over the edge with him.  
Oswald saw stars behind his eyes. Jim saw only darkness.

As their mutual climax died away, Jim pulled out, sweat beading his brow as he disposed of his used condom in a wastebasket. He lay down on his side and pulled the blanket up, even as he thought about how ridiculous it was to cover himself now Oswald had seen everything.

Oswald was already getting up to leave. 

Oswald stretched tall, carefully managing his balance on his good leg, luxuriating in every ache and twinge. He felt invigorated and energised, ready for the next battle. There was always a next battle. He reached down for his shirt, smiling to himself even as his used body protested. The pain had been worth it to see Jim’s true face at last and Oswald felt flattered Jim had chosen to finally be fully honest with him. As he buttoned his shirt, Oswald wondered if sex always felt this good.

Even though Jim had suspicions that Oswald had brought him to the motel purely to secure more leverage against him, Jim knew he had also used Oswald for his own gratification. He hadn’t been pushed into the sordid arrangement: he had leapt in willingly. It was ironically disquieting how relaxed Jim felt: his body aching as the tension in his muscles was finally given room to dissipate. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time. Galavan was dead and after tonight he would never have to worry about him again. He felt cleansed. Himself again.  
He owed Oswald for that but had no idea how to articulate it, morally unable to thank Oswald for helping him with an illegal murder but grateful for his help.   
He felt he should say something so he settled for a neutral question as he watched Oswald dress.

‘Where are you headed?’ Jim asked, trying to ignore the fading warmth of where Oswald had been lying.

‘I think it’s best if I don’t tell you’, Oswald said taciturnly.

He had expected Jim to just ignore him until he left so his concern was a pleasant surprise. But he was not about to admit to Jim that he had no idea where he was supposed to go next. He would be suspect number one for Galavan’s death and had no idea which safe houses were still operational. It was just another reason not to dally here. No matter how hard it had been to leave the bed and Jim’s strong embrace.

‘If they come after you because of Galavan, I can’t help you’, Jim said unemotionally, ‘I need to be with Lee now. Completely’.

Oswald nodded. He had expected Jim would be unable to help him but the naked declaration that he was unwilling to still hurt. One night wasn’t going to change that ‘white knight’ complex Jim was clinging to so desperately. He probably thought Oswald had seduced him as another form of leverage. Maybe it made him feel better to think that. To delude himself that there were no genuine feelings at work here to make it easier for him to walk way and pretend it never happened. Oswald had tried to picture it as that too: just a meaningless physical exchange to let off some steam. But he couldn’t quite do it. Maybe because it had been his first time. Or maybe because he felt too damn tired.   
As Oswald pulled on his coat and ignoring the lump in his throat, Oswald considered how he was better off alone anyway. At least he would always have the memory. Jim would too and Oswald thought, spitefully, if Jim would now ever think of him while deep inside his lady love. Oswald would certainly be revisiting this experience in future for his own pleasure. 

‘I can’t tell if Lee’s lucky or incredibly unlucky’, Oswald mused aloud.

‘Me neither’, Jim said in a strange, lost sounding tone.

Oswald was struck by the sudden desire to reassure Jim even as he felt resentment bubbling within him at Jim’s earlier curt dismissal. He knew it would gain him nothing but couldn’t help it. It was compulsive: a strange drive to make Jim feel better even though they both knew he should feel ashamed of himself. Oswald reflected on how he should maybe feel ashamed too (Lee was pregnant after all) but her feelings mattered little to Oswald compared to Jim’s forlorn demeanour.

‘I want you to know Jim: your secrets are safe with me. All of them’, Oswald promised, wondering why he continued to torture himself like this.

It was pointless to expect Jim to see him as anything other than a cold blooded criminal.   
When Jim’s face brightened in a genuine yet sad smile however, Oswald’s doubts evaporated.   
His heart raced at Jim’s kindly expression. Yes. This is why he kept trying to get close to Jim. That warmth breaking through the isolation: like a lighthouse in a dark sea drawing Oswald in.   
They were the same. He and Jim. Better than their surroundings.   
Men of principle in a city that wanted them both dead and yet here they were.   
Killers both yet untouchable and their morals incorruptible.   
Both dedicated to doing what was best for the savage yet beautiful city they called home. 

‘I wish I could believe you’, Jim said.

Oswald gave a humourless laugh.   
This was why Jim was wasted at the corrupt GCPD. He actually wanted evidence before he believed anything someone said. Oswald didn’t blame Jim for this: it was what made him so interesting. Oswald also knew that his past record of double dealing and discarding alliances to benefit himself was far from encouraging. He was used to being doubted.   
But Oswald was also used to having to prove himself.  
He would prove Jim meant something to him. He silently swore he wouldn’t tell anybody about Jim’s involvement in Galavan’s death even under torture or pain of death. After all, with his mother dead, there was nothing else anybody could do to hurt him.  
Maybe if Oswald stayed quiet, Jim would see who he really was. See he was sincere.  
See that they were friends. 

‘That’s fine’, Oswald said breezily, opening the door to leave, ‘‘I’ll just have to _make_ you believe me’.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for @Owlettica on Tumblr as part of the Gotham Recs Gift Exchange 2018!  
> I hope you enjoy it :) It was really cool to do a Gobblepot request for a change!


End file.
